


the pain's only temporary

by wreckingtomlinson (karasunonolibero)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Demon Deals, Famous Harry, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-18 04:42:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17574095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunonolibero/pseuds/wreckingtomlinson
Summary: They call him The Phantom.He’s something like a myth in the industry—almost everyone knowsofhim, but real information is few and far between. But the one thing everyone seems to be able to agree on is that anyone who dares to make a deal with him becomes untouchably, irrevocably, successful.~or, Harry seeks out the help of a mysterious figure referred to only as The Phantom for help getting out of a contract, but is he prepared to pay the price?





	the pain's only temporary

**Author's Note:**

> so this is unlike anything i've written before but i'm really proud of it! this was heavily inspired by the music video for [phantom by natewantstobattle](https://youtu.be/r24PhMkXlsM) (also where the title comes from), and has some _phantom of the opera_ -esque elements in it. enjoy!

They call him The Phantom.

He’s something like a myth in the industry—almost everyone knows _of_ him, but real information is few and far between. Some claim he’s a demon. Some claim he’s an alien. Some say he’s just a really powerful record exec who moonlights as The Phantom to retain his anonymity. But the one thing everyone seems to be able to agree on is that anyone who dares to make a deal with him becomes untouchably, irrevocably, successful.

Not that anyone can prove that for certain. No one’s actually gone on record claiming to have made a deal with him, or even to have met him. Hell, maybe The Phantom isn’t even a man.

All Harry knows is that The Phantom is his last hope.

Exhausted, overworked, made to parade around with leggy models he has no interest in, and pigeonholed into a Simon Cowell contract that seems to keep extending itself, what other options does he have, short of legal action that’ll cost him a fortune, only to lose to Simon’s army of lawyers?

He asks around at every industry event, awards show, and recording studio, for any scrap of information he can get. It takes him four months to find enough tidbits to piece together how to find The Phantom—a whisper here, a rumor of a clue to a location there. And that’s how Harry finds himself in Boston on this bitingly cold night.

All his prying has led him to a place called Steinert Hall. Harry had Googled the place the night before and found that it was once an underground concert hall, shut down in 1942 due to updated fire codes. Now, it’s abandoned. And apparently home to The Phantom.

He can’t help but feel this is all a little _Phantom of the Opera_. This is the theater district, after all.

He slips into the unlocked building, his friend Liam close behind him, and the door shuts with an unnaturally soft _click_ , leaving them in darkness. Harry takes out his phone light, and they begin the descent underground. Even with the light, he can’t see much around him, so he focuses on making it down the stairs without breaking his neck.

“Are you sure going to The Phantom is the best way to deal with this?” Liam asks, knuckles turning white as he grips the railing and inches down the stairs one at a time. “We don’t even really know who—or _what_ —he is.”

“Do you know a better way?” Harry shoots him a glance. “He’s the only one who can help me.”

“So what do we do, just walk in and say hi, can you get rid of Simon for us?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admits after a pause. “But we don’t know if we don’t try, right?”

Four flights of stairs later, there’s a door. With a brief glance at Liam, Harry pushes it open and gasps.

This is it.

The room is…small, considering the size of concert halls these days, and shaped like an oval. Salmon-colored paint flakes off the walls, exposing the yellowing plaster underneath, and the floorboards creak loudly under their feet. The seats have been torn out at some point, so it’s just a flat expanse of space up to the small stage, where a decaying piano still sits, gathering dust. It’s so musty Harry can almost taste it. It should be disgusting down here.

And yet there’s a beauty in how intact the place still is, considering there haven’t been active efforts to maintain it. Like they’ve stepped back in time.

“Is he supposed to be here?” Liam whispers, his voice echoing in the space.

For three long seconds, nothing happens. Then the sconces on the wall flicker to life, casting the room in a golden glow. Harry screams. Liam screams.

“Did you do that?” Harry whispers. Liam shakes his head.

And then the music starts. There’s no one at the piano, but a soft, haunting melody that Harry doesn’t recognize spills into the air nonetheless.

“Oh my god, Li, he _is_ the Phantom of the Opera.” Harry hates that it comes out as a whimper, but Liam looks scared shitless, so he doesn’t feel too bad. “There’s not a chandelier in here, is there?”

“Or a dead body?”

“Don’t even joke.”

Then, just as it began, the music cuts off abruptly and the hall is plunged into eerie silence. Harry doesn’t dare _breathe_ too loudly.

“Hi,” says a new voice from directly behind Harry.

Harry isn’t ashamed to admit he jumps a foot in the air and screams again as he whirls around to see whoever’s materialized behind him.

It’s a man who looks very human, who’s actually a few inches shorter than Harry. He’s got wispy brown hair, swept to the side, and a hint of black eyeliner rimming bright blue eyes. And he’s wearing a denim jacket and black skinny jeans.

All in all, he looks alarmingly normal. And alarmingly attractive.

Liam speaks up first. “Are you The Phantom?”

“Depends. Who’s asking?” The man crosses his arms, gaze moving to Harry.

“Um.” Harry clears his throat. “I’m Harry. Harry Styles.”

“Ah. You’re here about the Simon contract,” the man says.

“How do you know about that?”

One side of the man’s mouth curls up in a grin. Harry’s simultaneously afraid and a little turned on. “I’m The Phantom. I know everything.” He raises one hand to beckon him toward the piano. “Come with me.”

Liam and Harry exchange nervous glances, and The Phantom laughs. “Relax, don’t you look so wary. You’ve come this far, haven’t you?”

Harry nods and takes that as his cue to start walking.

He’s led through a doorway just behind the small stage, into a cramped room taken up almost entirely by a square table with one lit candle and a feathery black quill pen in the middle. Bookcases line the walls, every shelf crammed with dusty old tomes and folios, and even more candles, unlit, dot the perimeter of the room. Harry half expects to see a skull sitting on one of the shelves, but he doesn’t.

The Phantom takes a seat in an ornately carved wooden chair and motions for Harry to sit across from him. Harry collapses into a leather armchair that coughs up a cloud of dust when he sits in it. Liam hovers in the corner of the room, wringing his hands awkwardly.

“You want my help getting out of the Simon contract.” It’s not a question.

Harry nods. “Can…can you do that?”

“I can.” The man tilts his head and leans forward, forearms resting on the table as he studies Harry intently. The single flame reflects in his eyes, casting his face in shadow. “What are you willing to do?”

“Anything,” Harry answers instantly.

“Anything?” The Phantom picks up the quill and reaches out, drawing the edge of the feather across Harry’s cheek. Harry suppresses a shiver. “Do you understand what you’re offering, Harry Styles?”

“I understand what I’m losing by staying in this contract,” Harry counters. The edge of the feathers tickle his jaw, but he doesn’t dare push it away.

“That wasn’t the question.” The Phantom lowers the feather to rest under Harry’s chin. “Do you understand that if I help you on your terms of _anything_ , you are bound to repay me in any manner for however long I wish? Are you prepared to potentially sign your life away to me?”

Harry swallows thickly. “Is that what you’d want from me? My life?”

“I thought deals with the devil usually involved souls,” Liam points out unhelpfully.

“But I’m not the devil. I’m The Phantom.” He grins sharply. “You didn’t come prepared with an offer, so I get to decide how I’m repaid. It’s in the contract.” The Phantom sits back, placing the quill in the inkwell, and a scroll of parchment tied with a red silk ribbon suddenly materializes in front of him, which he unfurls it with a flourish. Liam gasps as the parchment unrolls off the edge of the table and pools around Harry’s feet.

Harry’s throat goes dry. “This is quite the contract.”

“You’re no stranger to them.”

Harry leans forward and starts reading the first paragraph.

_I, Harry Styles, acknowledge that this contract is a binding agreement between The Phantom and myself. The terms of this contract, as well as the consequences for breaking any part of this contract, are as outlined below._

Harry looks up. “It already had my name on it. Did you know I was coming?”

“Like I said. I know everything.” The Phantom flicks his hand. “Take your time reading it. Have your friend look at it, if you want. I’d advise you to ask any and all questions while you’re here. There’s nothing more irritating than having people come crawling back to dispute some part of it that they’ve already signed.”

“Do you help a lot of people?” Liam asks from the corner, making no move to join the two of them at the table.

“Enough that you knew I could help you, but so few that it took you months to discover how to find me.” He smirks, a proud little expression.

Harry studies the contract more closely, heart sinking as he does so. He’d come here to get out of a contract, not pore over another one. But if this is his chance, he’d be a fool to waste it.

He reads through section after section, stomach filling with dread as he notes how many times it’s emphasized that The Phantom can demand any sort of payment, whenever he wishes. A little voice inside his head that sounds suspiciously like Liam is telling him that this has “evil, malicious trap” written all over it. But the louder, more gut-driven part of him is screaming that he’s _already_ in an evil, malicious trap, and what could possibly be worse than what he’s got now?

Twenty minutes later, his eyes are swimming and he never wants to see the words “Phantom” or “contract” ever again. Or his own name, for that matter. “Where do I sign?”

“Harry, you’re just gonna—sign it? Just like that?” Liam squawks from the corner.

“Well, you get over here and read it if you’re so worried,” Harry grumbles.

“I’m just saying.” Liam looks to The Phantom. “Does he have to decide right now?”

The Phantom folds his arms. “Leave here without signing and my offer of help is rescinded. I’m sorry, but it’s for my own protection.”

“Can’t we sign an NDA or something?”

“Li, it’s fine.” Harry meets The Phantom’s eyes. “I’ll sign.”

“Alright, then.” The Phantom plucks the quill from the inkwell and directs Harry to a blank space under the first section. “Sign here. And here. And I’ll need your initials here, and here—no, right next to this paragraph…”

“It’s like buying a house,” Harry mutters. And it sort of is, until he has to stop signing his name.

“I’ll need the name of the street you grew up on right here,” The Phantom tells him. “And the name of your first pet. Your mother’s maiden name. Passport number—”

“I don’t know that off the top of my head!” Harry protests.

“You have it on you, don’t you?”

Well, that’s true. Harry tugs his passport out of his bag and painstakingly copies the numbers onto the contract, feeling suddenly like he’s answering security questions on a website.

“And initial here, put your daytime phone number here—and then sign one last time, there at the bottom.”

By the time Harry’s finished, his hand is ready to cramp. He’s never felt like this, even after doing signings for hours. Hand shaking, he signs his name one final time. The moment he’s crossed the final T in Styles, the contract glows with an unsettling golden light.

”What—” Confused, he looks over at The Phantom to find his eyes, too, are glowing the same color. The dread in his stomach turns to a wild fear, and he trips scrambling out of the chair to run into Liam’s corner. “What’s going on?”

The Phantom doesn’t look away, golden eyes boring into Harry like they’re seeing straight through him.

“Harry, _you’re_ glowing!” Liam exclaims.

Harry looks down at his hands, but he doesn’t see himself glowing. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re _fucking glowing_!”

And then, just as suddenly as the glowing began, it stops, as though someone shut off a lamp. The room is plunged back into the dim state it was in before, except…no, this time it’s completely dark. Even the candle has been snuffed out.

Harry starts counting in his head. One…two…three… He makes it all the way to thirteen before he finally draws in a shaky breath. There’s a snap, the loud sound echoing in the silence like a gunshot, and the flame relights itself. The Phantom hasn’t moved, still seated calmly in his wooden throne, eyes back to their normal blue. He’s holding something in his hand that Harry can’t see.

“Now what?” Harry dares to ask.

“Now?” The Phantom tilts his wrist to reveal what he’s holding, letting the blade of a gold knife catch the light. Where had that come from? Harry swallows thickly, unable to take his eyes off the weapon in the man’s hand.

And then the next thing he knows, The Phantom has him backed against one of the bookcases, close enough for Harry to see the shocking blue of his irises, the knife blade held to the left side of Harry’s neck almost casually. He’s got Harry’s life in his hands, literally _and_ figuratively, and he knows it.

“Now…” He grins. “You’re mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact, steinert hall is a real place in boston! you can find some more information on it [here](https://www.today.com/popculture/steinert-hall-see-inside-iconic-piece-boston-40-feet-underground-t113739). apparently they're currently doing a renovation of the hall, but for the sake of this fic, i pretended that's not happening. anyway, thank you for reading! x if you liked it, you can come visit me on [tumblr](http://humhalleloujah.tumblr.com), and if you really liked it, please consider reblogging the [fic post](https://1dshortficfest.tumblr.com/post/183268331109/1dshortficfest-the-pains-only-temporary-2285) x


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